Please?
by MyLittleHamilsonOf221B
Summary: The date is November 24, 1802. A year ago today, Philip Hamilton died. And those affected are each grieving however they know how.
1. Chapter 1

**Some Philidosia, and Father/Son Washington/Hamilton. I tried. This was just kind of an idea i had for a sob story after coming across some fanart, enjoy!**

Please?

It was a normal day. Almost. Almost everyone was fine that day. Almost everyone was going about their daily business. Everyone, in fact, but the Hamiltons and one Theodosia Burr. They? They were grieving for a great loss. It was November 24, 1802. A year ago that day, each of the grieving people had lost someone dear to them: Philip Hamilton.

Alexander and Eliza Hamilton had lost their son. Each of the Hamilton children had lost a beloved sibling and friend. And Theodosia Burr had lost the love of her life… not that anyone knew it. She and Philip had been a secret, and she intended for it to stay that way. If either family found out… well, there would be hell to pay. Not only did their fathers hate each other, but Theodosia was married shortly before Philip's death, and she was not about to let anyone know she had cheated on her husband, if only for a short time.

Each of those affected was dealing with the loss however they could. Theodosia was grieving silently, and taking the opportunity while her husband was at work to pen out a letter to her deceased lover, telling him all that had happened since he was gone. Even though she knew it would never be sent, knew she would end up burning it when she was finished, it was a sort of comfort to communicate with Philip somehow, even if it was rather one-sided.

Eliza spent the day with her children, offering a quiet support to the older ones, who remembered the day a year ago when their brother had died all too clearly, and making sure the younger ones were happy and distracted enough to not notice the somber mood the household carried. She would grieve later, after the children were in bed and Alexander had returned home. Then she would let herself break down, and find comfort in her husband's arms. For now, she had to be the strong one. Her husband had disappeared early that morning, undoubtedly dealing with the emotions the day brought in his own way, so now the role fell to her.

Alexander was walking, much as he had directly after his son's death. It was a sort of coping method, much like his work was. He didn't really know where his feet were carrying him, just that he wanted to be alone with his thoughts. He knew that as much as Eliza and he loved and supported each other, despite the ups and downs in their marriage, for now, each of them would want to grieve in their own way.

The realization of his surroundings snapped Alexander Hamilton out of his thoughts. His breath caught in his throat, almost a sob, when he saw where he was. His wandering had led him to the graveyard where both his son and the only fatherly figure he'd ever known rested. Slowly, hesitantly, he approached his son's grave. Looking around, wanting to leave a tribute, he spotted a flower patch growing a few feet off, presumably for the purpose of leaving flowers on the graves of loved ones.

He knelt before his son's final resting place, his head bowed. Slowly, he reached out and placed the flowers at the bottom of the gravestone, just under the date inscription. "January 22, 1782 to November 24, 1801," he read in a whisper, running his fingertips over the dates. Sighing, he settled next to his son's grave and spoke for a while, weaving together a tale of all that had happened in the last year. Alex didn't know if Philip could hear him or not, but he figured there was always the chance.

After he had spent almost two hours talking to his son, he rose from his position on the ground, intending to go home. At that point, though, another gravestone caught his eye. It was the grave of George Washington, the only father figure he had ever known, although he would never admit it.

Making a split second decision, he made his way to the grave of his nation's first president. Here there were flowers all around, and the gravestone was engraved in a fancy, flowing script. Slowly, he kneeled before the grave, bowing his head. He had no words to express the grief he felt for his son, and his family. But it seemed as though the spirit of Washington understood anyway. Alexander could almost feel the general's presence as he sat in silence. Finally he just let go, talking about everything that had happened- the loss of his son, _The Reynolds Pamphlet_ , all the things that had gone wrong since the General was gone. He talked about how he needed guidance, how the general had been a father figure to him. It gave him a sort of peace, in a way, to finally get everything off his chest.

As he finally got up to go back home and be support to his family, he turned back one last time towards his father and son. As he looked away, you could almost hear his quiet whisper, "Call me son one more time… please?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Okay so after a looooooooong hiatus I've finally started writing again! So here's something I started a few months ago and only just finished. Enjoy!**

November 24, 1803. Two years, and the pain was still fresh for all. Philip Hamilton was gone, they'd come to terms with it, but it didn't make it any easier to bear. Their hearts still ached for their lost love, brother, and son. Something was going to change this year, though. Two of the parties were going to bond over their loss, despite all the odds, despite their own best interests.

Theodosia Burr Alton woke on the morning of her old lover's death with a momentarily unexplainable ache in her chest… until she noticed the date. Sighing, she debated visiting his grave this year. She didn't go last year, the pain was too strong, she was too weak to handle seeing his grave, covered over with grass and flowers. She'd grown stronger since then though, gotten used to the cloud of grief that constantly was a part of her daily life. Even at 20, she was more used to grief, more adept at hiding how she felt, than many politicians, than many war veterans who had seen more death and despair than she ever would.

Theodosia looked up sharply from her seat on the edge of her and her husband's bed as her husband entered, taking a seat next to her. He had no idea of the significance the day carried, and she wasn't about to tell him. Donning a mental mask of neutrality, she looked up into the eyes of her husband with a smile on her face.

"Hello, darling," he grinned at her, an air of formality that remained throughout their marriage. Although they cared for each other very much, what they had could not necessarily be considered a romantic love; more of a strong friendship. Theodosia returned his greeting with a quick, friendly peck and an arm around his waist as he pulled her to his side. "I have a meeting most of the day today so I won't be home till late; don't wait up for me, I'll stop at a tavern for dinner on the way home."

"Alright, my dear, if you insist. I'll see you tonight," Theodosia replied, letting go of her husband as he stood up and left the room. As soon as the door shut, she dropped her mask. She still wasn't sure whether she wished to visit Philip's grave or not. There was always the chance she would see one of his family there. Perhaps it was too risky.

"No," she said aloud. She would go, risks be damned. She had nothing to lose, not really. She had already lost almost everything that mattered.

Eliza Hamilton still did not go to his grave, not yet. She had been, of course, other times. But the day he died, the pain, the memories, were almost overwhelming. And besides, she knew that her husband needed time alone to grieve, time where he did not have to be the strong one, time to cry. She did not want to take that away from him. So she stayed home again with the children, stayed strong, and kept a lid on her emotions, and waited for Alex to come home. Later that night, once the children were in bed, they would hold each other and cry over all that they had lost.

Alex was going through his own private turmoil. He had opted to walk to Philip's grave, not wishing to interact with anyone today, the anniversary of his son's death, the death he felt he had caused. He was still constantly haunted by the thought that his son had died, defending him, and because of how Alex had told him to fight the duel.

As he neared Philip's grave it felt as though his soul grew heavier with each passing step. Still, he plodded on, head hung low. Because of this, he didn't notice the young woman kneeling in front of his son's grave until he almost tripped over her. He took a step back, looking at her with a confused expression as he realized the young woman in front of his beloved eldest son's grave was Theodosia Burr Alston, his rival's daughter.

"What are you doing here? You barely even knew Phillip… right?" he asked her. She looked up at him sharply, having not heard him approach. There in her eyes Alex could see, for only a split second, grief and remorse. But it was quickly replaced by surprise and alarm.

Theodosia had a quick decision to make. She could lie and simply say she just happened to see the date while passing by and didn't recognize the name at first. Or… or, she could tell the truth. Tell him she and his son had been in love. Tell him they had been planning to get married. And risk the consequences of her revelation.

"Well.. not exactly, Mr. Hamilton. You see, Phillip and I were in love and… we were planning to get married when he died." Theodosia a spoke in a rush, finishing her sentence before she even really made the conscious decision to say it. Alexander stared at her in shock, not knowing what to say or how to process what he had just learned. "I'm sorry, Mr. Hamilton. I'll go now. You won't see me here again, I promise you."

"No, wait! Stay!" Alex near shouted, startling the already frazzled Theo. More softly, he continued, "Please?"


End file.
